


Burn

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Cigarettes, Dylric, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Dylan writes a poem for a Creative Writing assignment from the POV of Eric's cigarette.





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtybandaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtybandaid/gifts).



Dylan stared at the blank page of his notebook. Writer’s block was bullshit. It’s been at least two days since Ms. Kelly gave their fourth hour Creative Writing class a poetry assignment and Dylan still had nothing to turn in, let alone work with. It sucked. He was never short on ideas, but this particular assignment had him stumped. The teacher had asked for everyone to turn in a poem from the point of view of an inanimate object - an idea Dylan found silly, to be completely fucking honest. Most of these assignments were time-wasters, for sure.

Dylan looked over at Eric. He seemed to be more relaxed than Dylan (no surprise there); dressed in a green flannel and jean shorts, he was casually perched in a patio chair without a care in the world.

Eric reached into the pocket of his flannel and pulled out a pack of Kamel Reds and a green Bic lighter.

Distracted from the homework assignment, Dylan studied Eric, watched his fingers as he slipped a single cigarette loose from the pack and placed it between his lips. Eric leaned forward a little to light his cigarette, a flame sparking from the end of the lighter. Eric took a long, pensive drag, reaching up with two fingers to pull the cigarette from his lips so he could ash the tip of it with a flick.

Captivated by something he’d seen a million times, Dylan picked up his pen and began to write.

  
_His mouth on me is hot like fire —_  
_I burn, flames licking at my insides._  
_A fiery, scorching light touches me_  
_(like sunlight at first)_  
_then ignites me, chases me down, swallows me._  
_My oxygen is stolen - ripped from me._  
_~~Eric’s~~ His lips - soft, chapped, never kissed - caress me like a whisper,_  
_gentle_  
_(never too much, too hard, too anything)_  
_His tongue, barely there against my side, is calm and creeping,_  
_less bitter than when he spits venom, coarse words, raw sentiments._  
  
_I live in service of him alone;_  
_His fix, his obsession._  
_Our ritual._  
_I know he’ll feel the effects of my spell soon enough._  
_My only goal is his pleasure, relief, respite. I seek to comfort him, to bring him solace;_  
_Perhaps one golden moment in the midst of Hell._  
_He draws me in, pulls me close with the touch of his fingers, the press of his lips._  
_I’ll make him feel good - if only for a moment, high off the taste of me._  
_He breathes me in again and again,_  
_savors my taste._  
_Our love only lasts a minute but it’s perfect ecstasy._  
_I am his_  
completely  
  
_I feel his breath on my paper-thin skin._  
_I sear, scorch, burn with his mouth around me, losing strength._  
_Enough of this and he’ll be_  
dizzy  
  
_He craves me, what I do to him_  
_Craves the way we come together in the haze_  
_My glow; his addiction_  
_Our love flickers_  
_A blaze of chemical love, smoldering._  
  
_Inhale me_  
_Devour me_  
_Use me up._  
  
_A spark —_  
_Our love burns out_  
_Extinguished_  
_My death, his reprieve._  
_Galvanize._

  
  
“Whatcha writing?” Eric asked Dylan, breaking the spell. He leaned over the table to try and get a glimpse of the words in Dylan’s notebook.

Dylan snapped his notebook shut and dropped the pen. “Nothing,” he said quickly, looking up into Eric’s eyes. Swallowing, he gestured to Eric’s cigarette, which by now had almost burned away to the end. “Can I get one of those?”


End file.
